


Translation Error

by leopharry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Comedy of Errors, Developing Friendships, Pole Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopharry/pseuds/leopharry
Summary: Due to a mistranslation, Yuri accidentally takes a 'pole' class instead of a 'barre' class. Friendship ensues.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Translation Error

**Author's Note:**

> The original female character is his teacher, and her role is pretty small. This is basically a theory as to how Yuri "I'll socialize under pain of death" Katsuki wound up making friends with Phichit, and also how he got so good at pole dancing. It was inspired by [this](http://leopharry.tumblr.com/post/154371761630/nerdqueenofthepumpkins-so-thats-how-yuuri-ended) post on tumblr. Hope you like it!

Phichit Chulanont was a _ menace_.

Yuri Katsuki had been on the fence about whether or not he liked his outgoing new rinkmate, but this... this settled it.

And the worst part of all was that he couldn’t even convince himself that it was Phichit’s fault. 

* * *

Phichit showed up at the rink one day in late March, fresh out of his last year of school back in Thailand, all friendly smiles and wide eyes, and Celestino had waved Yuri over from where he was warming up to introduce them.

“Yuri!” he said, when Yuri had reached them. Celestino had a comfortable arm thrown around Phichit’s shoulder, and Yuri was a little taken aback by how uncomfortable Phichit didn’t look at the casual contact. “I’d like you to meet your new rinkmate, Phichit Chulanont. Phichit, this is Yuri Katsuki.”

Phichit raised his hands, as if in prayer, to his nose, and bowed his head slightly. “Hello, Yuri! It’s nice to meet you.”

Yuri clumsily mimicked the gesture, and said, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Phichit didn’t respond, except perhaps with a slight widening of his smile. Celestino dropped his arm from Phichit’s shoulder and said, “Since you’re one of my older students, Yuri, I hope I can trust you to make sure Phichit settles in well here. He lives in the same apartment building as you, and he’ll be going to the same college, so take care of him, all right?”

“O-of course,” Yuri said, nodding once, noticing the slight look of relief on Phichit’s face at having his personal space to himself again. Celestino apparently did not notice this. 

“Yuri is shy,” Celestino said to Phichit. “But he’s a wonderful skater, and very reliable. If you need anything, Yuri can help you.” Then Celestino clapped his hands loudly together and said, “Now go put on your skates. I won’t say anything about you being late today since it’s your first day, but I expect you to be on time tomorrow!”

Phichit nodded and hurried to put on his skates, and Yuri went back to his warmup, and from there, there wasn’t much time to talk as Celestino ran them through practice. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri watched him, though, out of a simultaneous curiosity as to his level of prowess and a slight fear that he knew was irrational and unfair that Phichit would prove to be a better skater than him. As it turned out, Phichit was a great skater, full of passion and energy that Yuri knew he couldn’t genuinely match. He felt guilty for being a little proud that, at the end of practice, Phichit was huffing and puffing, out of breath, whereas he, Yuri, had only just barely broken a sweat. So, in terms of stamina, he was better. At least it was something.

Feeling guilty for his secret victory, he waited outside the locker room for Phichit to finish showering and dressing, and when Phichit finally came out, Yuri approached him first. “Hi, Phichit. Celestino said you live in the same apartment as me. Would you like to walk home together?”

Phichit looked momentarily surprised, then that wide, easy smile he wore before practice came back, and he nodded and said, “Okay.”

* * *

Yuri was not a conversationalist in his native language, let alone in English, and certainly not with someone whose English still had the stilted, textbook-learnt quality that someone who hadn’t relied on it as their primary form of communication for several years usually had. That didn’t seem to stop Phichit, though; if anything, it made him seem more determined to talk, to practice, to improve. Yuri respected his dedication, even if there were times when Phichit had to stop them in the middle of the sidewalk and look up a word on the dictionary app on his phone. 

So Phichit asked him questions, and Yuri would give short, vague answers, and then deflect the question back to Phichit, who gave long, rambly, staggered answers right back, until they reached their apartment building. Then Yuri would say goodbye after the second flight of stairs, and Phichit would carry on towards the seventh floor, and that very neatly took care of Yuri’s obligation to helping Phichit settle in here in Detroit, didn’t it?

* * *

In mid-May, his school semester ended, and he spent a lot more time at the rink. Without the distraction of classes and homework, Yuri devoted all of his time to skating, and when he wasn’t skating, he was taking ballet, something he’d promised Minako-sensei he would keep up with, if for no other reason than to help keep his weight down. And when he wasn’t at the rink or at ballet, he was in his apartment, and he was content. 

He and Phichit still walked home together after practice every day, and with an admirable speed, Phichit’s English grew less stilted and much more fluid, and he was able to express thoughts and feelings he hadn’t had the words for before. Yuri learned a lot about Phichit in that time; he learned that Phichit was excited to start college, and that he hoped he would qualify for an international championship this year, even if he knew it wasn’t likely yet, and that when he wasn’t skating, he liked to go out and explore the city, and Yuri listened quietly, and spoke only when it would be rude not to, and they would part ways at Yuri’s floor, and Yuri would be comfortably alone again.

And then the fall semester of the next year was approaching, and Yuri was faced with a dilemma. The classes he needed to take for his major were only offered during the times his ballet instructor was available for lessons. He wasn’t sure what to do; he’d made a promise to his parents that, since they were paying for him to go to school, he wouldn’t let skating keep him from graduating from college, but he’d made a promise to Minako-sensei, too....

The thought that he would disappoint one or the other of them was much more stressful than it probably should have been, and in a move that was incredibly uncharacteristic of him, he brought up his problem to Phichit during one of their routine walks home.

If Phichit was surprised that Yuri was confiding in him, he didn’t show it; instead, he hummed, and then said, “What about another type of ballet class?”

Yuri looked down at the ground, contemplative. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s, um,” Phichit pouted for a moment, trying to come up with the words he was looking for. For all his improvement in English, dance terms were apparently not something he’d studied. “Ballet, normal. And the type with the toes. And... the type with the, hm.” Here, he pulled out his phone, typed something into the dictionary app (he didn’t have to stop walking to do so anymore), and then said, “The pole? And the mirrors?”

“Oh!” Yuri exclaimed softly. He knew exactly what Phichit was talking about. Was that called ‘pole?’ Yuri wasn’t quite sure, but then again, Phichit had just looked it up. Yuri pulled his own phone out, and looked up ‘Pole Class,’ and sure enough, there were a lot of classes offered at studios nearby. Yuri smiled widely, then looked back at Phichit. “That could work! Thank you, Phichit-kun.”

And then he blushed, because the honorific had just slipped out, and wasn’t it weird that he’d called him ‘Phichit’ this whole time, and only now, now that Phichit had done him a favor, did he make that mistake and addressed him more respectfully than before? He felt rude, and guilty, as if he’d just insulted him.

But Phichit laughed. “That sounds cool when you say it, Yuri. ‘Phichit-kun.’ I like it!”

And so, feeling a strange sense of relief at being able to casually use something from home on someone here, Yuri called him ‘Phichit-kun’ as often as he remembered to, until, in Yuri’s head, his name wasn’t just ‘Phichit’ anymore.

* * *

He waited until the last possible minute to register for the pole class. He liked his ballet teacher; she reminded him of Minako-sensei and his mother all rolled into one, and it pained him to end his lessons with her. But the day before school started again was his last day with her, and when he got out of class the next day, after he stopped at home to grab his dance bag, he had his first pole lesson.

He walked into the studio, and loud hip-hop music was playing out of the open door. When he got inside, he looked around briefly, and felt a little confused. There was nothing anywhere in the entrance way to indicate that ballet lessons took place here; no flyers, no advertisements for higher-level classes, no showcase opportunities. But there was a cork board that displayed a lot of flyers for hip-hop dance classes, and even some for break dancing, which Yuri inspected more closely. 

“Hi, are you looking for somebody?” a voice called through the open door. Yuri turned to look at the young girl poking her head out of the classroom door. 

Yuri could feel his face going red, embarrassed for having disturbed her, so he said, “I’m Yuri Katsuki, I called about the, uh. Pole class?”

The girl looked at him curiously for a moment, then said, “Oh, you want Amber, then. I’ll go get her.”

“Thank you,” Yuri said quietly, then waited patiently, redirecting his attention to some of the flyers. Apparently this studio offered beginner-level break dance classes. Yuri hummed thoughtfully.

“Hi, are you Yuri?” came another female voice, this one walking through the door and into the hall.

Yuri turned to look at her. She was very short; her head barely came up to Yuri’s chin, but her hair made up a significant portion of their height difference, even tied back as it was. She had very wide, very dark brown eyes, very thin eyebrows, and a very wide, warm smile by which Yuri couldn’t help but feel put at ease. 

He nodded. “Mm,” he said. “I think I spoke to you about the pole class? On the phone?”

Amber nodded, too. “Yeah! I remember. It’s not often I get guys calling about the pole class,” she said cheerfully. Yuri laughed nervously, unsure of how else to respond to that. “I’ve just got some paperwork I’ll need you to fill out, and we can get your payment set up, and then we can get started. Why don’t you follow me?”

So he did, and she led him up a flight of stairs and into a small office down the hall. She sat down behind a desk, and gestured for Yuri to sit across from her. She reached in a file cabinet and took out a folder, which she passed him, and then set a pen down on top of it.

“So go ahead and fill this out,” she said. “It’s just a registration form and an emergency contact sheet, and then under that is a form you can fill out if you want to pay by card.” 

Yuri dutifully, if a little slowly, filled out the paperwork. He put Celestino as his emergency contact, if for no other reason than that he was the only person in this country whose phone number he had. He pulled out his credit card and filled out that sheet too; it cost less to buy a month’s worth of classes rather than to pay by class, and it was even cheaper than his ballet lessons, so he did that instead.

Once he was done, he passed the paperwork back over to Amber, and she gave it a cursory glance.

“You took ballet?” she asked curiously, and Yuri wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard surprise in her tone. This set off an alarm in his mind. He was here for the pole class; it shouldn’t have been that unusual that he took ballet, right?”

“Yes, since I was six,” he answered.

“Wow,” Amber said, nodding appreciatively. Then she looked at him with a sly grin. “Decided to branch out a bit, huh?”

Yuri had definitely heard that idiom before, and he had thought he knew what it meant. “I suppose so.”

“Hm,” Amber hummed. “Well, I’ll just put this in the computer, and in the meantime, why don’t you go get changed, and then meet us in the studio? The changing rooms are right around the corner from here, and the studio is downstairs, first door on the left.”

Yuri nodded and grabbed his bag.

* * *

Socializing wasn’t that hard when it was professional. With professional conversations, you know what to expect, and how to respond. It was when the unexpected happened, and social interaction took a turn for the personal that Yuri was lost, and so when he walked into the studio, and all the poles were vertical rather than horizontal, he knew he had made a mistake. Just as certain was he that he knew there was no way for him to fix it; as soon as he walked in, Amber looked at him with a wide smile. “There you are, Yuri! I was starting to wonder if you got lost.”

The rest of the class--all of whom were women, Yuri noted with discomfort--turned to look at him, and Yuri was frozen to the spot.

He knew exactly what this was, and it definitely wasn’t ballet.

* * *

Yuri was exceptionally out of it during practice after his pole class, and Phichit noticed.

“Yuri, are you okay?” he asked, as soon as they were out of the rink and on their way home. Even now, Yuri was walking as if he were dazed. “You were very distracted at practice today.”

Yuri opened his mouth to insist that he was fine, but instead what came out was, “Pole class is not ballet.”

Phichit looked at him curiously, as if he were expecting Yuri to clarify what he meant. When Yuri just continued to walk, eyes wide, staring straight at the ground, Phichit pulled out his phone, and looked up ‘pole class’ on Youtube.

As soon as he saw the first thumbnail, everything made sense, and for a second, he could only stare at his search results. Then he looked at Yuri. And then he started laughing.

That got Yuri’s attention; he looked at Phichit, who was laughing so hard he’d stopped walking, and was bent over, his hands resting on his knees, and then he chuckled weakly, and then he started laughing too, and he laughed until his sides hurt.

“So,” Phichit said, his voice still thick with amusement, once he had finally managed to control his laughter. “Do you think you’ll keep going to pole class?”

Yuri let out one final huff of a laugh, and brought his hands up in a shrug. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I already paid for a month of classes. And I can’t take ballet with my old teacher while I’m in school, the times don’t match.” Then he looked down at his arms, which were a little sore; being a figure skater, he’d never really worked on his upper body strength that strenuously, but his core hurt too, and that was definitely relevant to his needs. “I don’t want to waste the money. I’ll probably find an actual, uh. Ballet pole class at the end of the month.”

* * *

He did not, in fact, find what he finally remembered was called a barre class at the end of the month. Pole class was unexpectedly good exercise; for once, he was actually wearing himself out during classes, and although he knew it was just because it was an adjustment period, he was curious to see how long it would take before his lauded physical stamina overcame the work.

And he was, surprisingly, not bad at pole dancing. Amber, who was the instructor as well as the owner of the studio, complimented him on how fast he picked up the basics.

“You have this naturally sultry look on your face whenever you’re dancing,” Amber told him one day after class.

Yuri had no idea what ‘sultry’ meant, having never heard it before, so he tentatively said, “That’s just because I can’t see without my glasses.”

Amber blinked at him for a minute before she burst out laughing, and Yuri grinned.

“And you’re funny, too,” Amber said, a hand on her hip. “What a catch.”

At that, his face went beet red, and Amber laughed again, harder.

* * *

When the month was up, Yuri was faced with a dilemma. He’d faithfully attended every class he paid for, but now he had no more excuses. If he were to continue with the pole class, it would be an admission, and he was still on the fence about it. So he went to Phichit.

“Well, you like the class, don’t you?” Phichit had asked.

Yuri hemmed and hawed, but eventually said, “It’s okay.”

“Well, then, I don’t know what the problem is,” he said. “It’s a good workout, and you don’t hate it. Why not keep doing it?”

That was all the encouragement Yuri needed. He bought another month of classes.

* * *

He was making friends with Amber. This came as something of a shock to him. 

“Me and the girls from class are planning to go out tonight,” she’d said after class was over one day in October. “Dinner and drinks, and then we’re gonna go out dancing. Wanna come?”

To his surprise, the idea wasn’t immediately off-putting. “Uh. Okay. What time?”

* * *

When you go out dancing with a group of people from your dance class, it turns out to be a wonderful time.

Yuri hadn’t really gone out much since he moved to Detroit. One excuse he used was that the drinking age in America was so high; the other was that he was focused on his skating, or his schoolwork, or he was expecting a call from home, or, or, or. Mostly, the reason was just that the events he was invited to didn’t really appeal to his interests. And he was shy. That was a significant block.

But he liked the girls from his dance class. They were all pretty friendly, and none of them made much noise about him being a guy in a class dominated by women. And none of them flirted with him, which, if he were being honest with himself, would have immediately driven him from the class, never to return. So, he genuinely liked them. It was incumbent that he tell them that.

“You are all soo nice,” he slurred loudly, over the thumping of the music. “I’m so glad I took this class.”

“Aww, Yuri, we love you too!” said one of his classmates. He couldn’t see who it was that spoke; it was pretty dark. 

“Yeah, Yuri’s the best!” said another--he was pretty sure that one was Christina.

“Noo, no,” Yuri denied. He could feel his red face go redder. “You know who’s the best? Amber!”

“Yeah, Amber!” another one said. It must have been Abby, because she took the opportunity to throw her hands around her. “Amber’s the best!”

“Best teacher ever!”

“Amber needs another drink!”

“Let’s go get another round!”

* * *

He stumbled into his apartment building around three in the morning, and only tripped up the stairs twice. He passed his own apartment and made his way all the way up to the seventh floor, knocking dissonantly on Phichit’s door. He knew it was late, so he gave Phichit plenty of time to get there. When he did, he opened the door looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, it occurred to Yuri then, he probably had.

“Phiiiiichiiiiiiiiiit-kuuuuuuuuuuuun,” Yuri said, moving in to hug him. He only had enough time to see Phichit’s eyes go wide before he buried his face in his neck. “You are a wonderful friend.”

“Are you drunk?” Phichit asked, and Yuri could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I was out dancing,” he explained. “With my pole classmates. It was fun! You should come with us next time!” Then he gasped and pulled back. “Phichit-kun! You should take the pole class!”

Phichit laughed. “Thanks for the invitation, Yuri, but I don’t want to take the pole class.”

Yuri pouted. “Why not? It’s so fun and everyone’s so nice.”

“It just doesn’t interest me that much. And besides, I’m already taking a dance class,” he explained. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Okay,” Yuri said, in both acceptance and agreement. Phichit led him to the couch and told Yuri to sit, which he did, then headed to the kitchen. 

“Here,” he said, handing Yuri a glass of water. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

“I’ll thank you for it now,” Yuri said sassily. “Thank you, Phichit-kun.” Then he drank some, and realized that he had been really thirsty. He put it on the table (only spilling a little), and said, “Well, if you don’t want to do pole class, we should take another class together! It’ll be fun!”

Phichit, seemingly amused by everything, just said, “Like what?”

Yuri thought hard for a moment, leaning against the back of the couch. “I don’t know,” he drawled. “Thinking’s hard.” Phichit laughed, but Yuri kept thinking. Phichit didn’t want to do the pole class. That was fine. Maybe something contemporary? Wait, wasn’t he in a hip-hop class? Then, what... “Oh!” Yuri said, sitting straight up, overshooting it and falling sideways a little. “How about break dance?”

Phichit looked confused. “Break dance?”

“Yeah! Where you, you know,” Yuri gestured to the floor. “On the ground, you spin, and handstands. You know!!”

Phichit continued to look confused, but he pulled his phone out and typed something. Then his eyes widened, and he broke into a grin. “Oh! Yeah, okay! That sounds like fun!”

“Yeah!” Yuri said, grinning too. “We’ll take break dance together! It’ll be great! Where my pole class is, they have classes. We can go sign up!” He said, moving to stand.

“Uh, not tonight, Yuri,” Phichit said. “It’s really early in the morning. We should sleep first."

“Oh,” Yuri said. “I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Phichit said, laughing. “You should get some sleep. You’re going to have a headache tomorrow.”

“A hangover, is in English,” Yuri said, not disagreeing. “Thank you for the water.”

“No problem,” Phichit said, taking the glass and walking with Yuri to the door. “Good night, Yuri. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early,” Yuri said, “So we can break dance.”

Phichit laughed and said, “Sure, Yuri,” and Yuri headed back downstairs to his apartment, passing out in his bed almost immediately.

* * *

True to Phichit’s predictions, he woke up very late and with a terrible headache. He looked at the clock; it was just past eleven in the morning, and he groaned into his pillow, but pushed himself out of bed all the same.

After showering, getting dressed, and drinking what had to be his own weight in water, he trudged up to the seventh floor, knocking once again on Phichit’s door. He felt, at the very least, that he owed him an apology for waking him up in the middle of the night.

Phichit answered with his usual chipper smile, and said, “Oh, Yuri! I wasn’t sure if you would remember.”

Yuri just groaned, and said, “Yeah, I remembered. Sorry about that. For waking you up so late. I get a little, um. Wild. When I drink.”

“It’s okay, Yuri. It was pretty funny,” Phichit said. “I’ve never seen you so outgoing.”

Yuri just laughed, a little uncomfortably, and said, “Yeah.”

“So, did you want to go?” Phichit asked. “I’d have to get my wallet, but I can go now, if you want.”

“Go?” Yuri asked, confused. Then the details of their conversation filtered back into his awareness, and he said, “Oh! Break dance. Right.”

Phichit just smiled indulgently at him. “Did you forget?”

Yuri scratched the back of his neck, shooting Phichit an apologetic smile. “Until right now, yes. I just came up here to apologize.”

“Well, did you still want to take the class?” Phichit asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Yuri considered Phichit for a moment. Though they’d been rinkmates and neighbors for more than six months now, they really didn’t do much together outside of practice. They walked home together, and went to and from school together when their schedules aligned, but apart from that... Well, really, nothing. And Yuri did like Phichit. He was funny, and helpful, and remarkably easy to talk to. 

It wouldn’t hurt, Yuri thought, to spend more time with him. Maybe they could be friends.

“Yeah, we can take the class,” Yuri said, smiling. “Why not?”

Phichit beamed, and said, “Let me get my wallet and we can go sign up!”

* * *

Yuri saw Amber through the window into her classroom when they got to the studio. She looked a little worse for wear, and when she saw Yuri looking in at her, she pulled a face, and Yuri laughed, but nodded in agreement. Phichit looked into the window, then looked at Yuri, and said, “Is that your pole teacher? She’s really pretty.”

Yuri, who didn’t pay attention to that (at least where girls were concerned, although he’d only ever told Yuuko, Minako-sensei, and Mari that), just lead Phichit toward the office and said, “Yeah, that’s Amber. And yeah, I guess she is pretty. I never considered that.”

Phichit smirked at him and said, “Have you ever thought about asking her out?”

“It--with--wh--” Yuri stammered. “On a date?”

“Yeah!” 

Yuri’s cheeks heated, and he said, “Uh. No. I haven’t.”

“Why not?” Phichit asked. “She’s pretty, and she must like you at least a little if she invited you out with everybody.”

Yuri didn’t know how to respond to that. “I... um....” He made a face and said, “She’s... not really my type.”

“Oh,” Phichit said, a little discouraged. “Well, then, what is your type?”

“Oh, here’s the office,” Yuri said, trying to hide his relief.

* * *

It took them a minute to find a time that worked with both of their school and training schedules, but eventually they got everything squared away, signed up, and left the studio.

Phichit brought the conversation right back to where they’d left off. “So, what is your type, then, Yuri?”

“It... I don’t know!” Yuri said, flustered.

“Do you like cute girls, or bookish girls--I bet it’s bookish, that’d be just like you--or down-to-Earth kinds of girls, or--”

“I don’t know,” Yuri repeated, his cheeks going pink, staring straight at the ground.

“Someone like her, maybe?” Phichit asked. Yuri looked up to see him pointing at a girl across the street, wearing athletic gear, running.

“Uh... no,” Yuri said, wishing Phichit would just drop the subject but not sure how to ask him without sounding rude.

“What about her?” he asked, and Yuri looked in the direction he was pointing, which was through the window of a cafe. A girl with thick-rimmed glasses and hair in a messy bun seemed to be taking people’s orders.

“N-no,” Yuri said.

“Her?” Phichit asked. He was pointing to a woman in high heels and a smart suit walking confidently around the corner.

“No,” Yuri said, looking back down at the ground.

Phichit hummed quietly, looking at Yuri, then back around. Quietly, he said, “Him?”

Yuri’s heart dropped straight to his feet, and he looked at Phichit in panicked alarm, then away, his face going three shades redder.

“Oooh, I see,” Phichit said, and to his surprise, his tone was of amusement, rather than the disapproval Yuri had half-expected. “Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “So how about him?”

“Phichit-kuuun,” Yuri groaned.

Phichit just laughed. “All right, Yuri, I’ll stop. I think I have my answer anyway, if all the posters of Victor Nikiforov in your room are anything to go by.”

“Phichit-kun!”

He just kept laughing.

Phichit Chulanont was a menace. But he was also, it turned out, a good friend.


End file.
